O’Donnell signed for the bill and called for a taxi to take them to their hotel. James’ excursion to America had turned out to be both profitable and unbelievably exciting. He loved his job!
The competitors were lined up on the grid waiting for the start flag on this beautiful summer day. The tension was palpable. An excited crowd of over one hundred and thirty thousand had paid to watch this, the first German grand prix since 1939.
The French had re-introduced grand prix racing the previous month. The only official team entrant had been one car from Maserati, the rest of the field was comprised of private entrants with various makes of 1930s single seat racing cars. In the actual event the Maserati’s engine blew up half way through the race while comfortably in the lead. The race was cheekily won by a previously unknown Englishman driving like a mad man in a small but extremely fast ERA (English Racing Automobile).
The British had also wanted to stage a grand prix this year, but the favoured circuit, Donnington, the scene of exciting pre-war races, had been requisitioned by the war department at the onset of the European War and used as a vehicle park, resulting in considerable damage. Next year they would be ready.
In the 1930s, two German automobile makers, Mercedes-Benz and Auto-Union, had dominated grand prix racing. Although no development work had been done on their racers since 1939, both of them gamely fielded two cars each for the German grand prix. Driving for Mercedes were their pre-war drivers, the three times European champion in 1935, 1937, and 1938, Rudolf Caracciola, and Hermann Lang, the winner of the most grand prix races in 1939 before the war stopped the series. The Mercedes reserve driver was Manfred von Brauchitsch, nephew of the famous Field Marshall. Germany’s leader was at the circuit today in the hope of seeing his nephew race.
Also driving for their pre-war employers, Auto-Union, were Hans Stuck, the 1936 European champion, and Rudolf Hasse, a previous grand prix winner.
The Italians were represented by two famous makes, Maserati and Alfa Romeo. Both of the Italian makes had spent the previous months putting as much development as was possible into their now ageing cars. They were definitely fast, but were they reliable?
Driving for Maserati was the highly experienced Luigi Villoresi, supported by a gifted newcomer to racing, Alberto Ascari. Ascari was being openly touted as a future world champion.
Alfa Romeo had retained the legendary Tazio Nuvolari. Although now fifty two years old, ‘The flying Mantuan’ as he was known, was European grand prix champion in 1932. Long before that, in 1925, he had been a European motorcycle champion. Nuvolari had managed an impossible win in the 1935 German grand prix when, in an outdated Alfa Romeo, he had defeated the powerful and all conquering German cars. Even more impressive was the fact that the Alfa Romeo was not a works car, but part of a private team. The team belonged to a man called Enzo Ferrari.
One, elderly, French Delahaye was entered, and another dozen private entrants in the smaller class completed the field.
The three hour spectacle of noise and power was over. Unbelievably, the oldest driver in the race, Nuvolari, had actually led the race briefly before his outclassed Alfa Romeo gave up the unequal struggle and spewed its engine all over the track. Both Maseratis also succumbed to the pace, as did the Delahaye. The race was won in an impeccable display of driving, by Lang in the Mercedes. His team mate was second, and the Auto-Unions finished third and fourth.
An impressive show of speed and reliability from the silver arrows. The German cars looked set to dominate the grand prix scene, as they had done before the war.
Lake Khasan is a small lake situated on the Soviet side of the demarcated Korea-Soviet border. It is only about one hundred and thirty kilometres from Vladivostok, the Soviet Pacific Fleet naval base and a strategically important Soviet centre.
For fifty years there had been tension along the common border between the Soviet Union and the Japanese occupied territories of Korea and Manchuria. In the 1930s there had been a series of battles and skirmishes. Collectively these were known as the Soviet–Japanese border war. But things had been quiet for the past five years, even though the two powers still greatly mistrusted each other.
Now some clever person in the Soviet army had decided it would be a good idea to send reinforcements to the Lake Khasan area, the site of a battle between the Japanese and Soviets only a few years earlier.
In response to this move the Japanese felt they had no option but to beef up their own forces.
It had only taken one nervous Russian sentry to start things. A twenty year old poorly trained conscript, Ivan Lushnikova, was half asleep as he patrolled alone in the early hours of the morning. Unwittingly he strayed ten metres or so, inside Korea. Two Japanese soldiers, equally tired, bored, and undertrained, were also on patrol and were walking towards Ivan, who, unfortunately for him, had been indoctrinated by Soviet stories of sneak Japanese attacks and ruthlessness.
On noticing them as they materialised in front of him, Ivan jerked awake, levelled his rifle and fired. A pure knee jerk reaction. His bullet missed. But those of the Japanese soldiers didn’t. Private Lushnikova had two bullets in him before he could even reload. He was quite dead, and would never see his parents in his home town of Tolyatti again.
Those three shots stirred up a hornets nest. Alarms sounded and shouting started on both sides, quickly followed by bullets. Then a Soviet machine gun opened up. This was answered by two Japanese machine guns. Within minutes the incident escalated totally out of control. It rapidly spread along a front of three kilometres. Soon artillery joined in. All the pent up hatred between the opposing forces was unleashed.
By mid-morning, fire was being exchanged along a six kilometre front. It was only due to a shortage of artillery and shells on both sides, that the conflict remained essentially a small arms duel up to this stage. That would only last until the combatants could bring up more equipment and ammunition. Tanks were already on their way.
By now, the ambassadors in Tokyo and Moscow were exchanging furious protest notes. An ominous development was the delivery of a note to the Chinese President by the Japanese ambassador, reminding China of their mutual defence treaty.
Chiang Kai-Shek reluctantly accepted that he had no option but take some sort of action. He had no wish to be dragged into a war with the Soviet Union, but neither did he want to provoke the Japanese into yet another war of aggression against China. The Chinese had a mutual defence treaty with the Japanese, and they had to be seen to be prepared to meet their obligations. He would go through the motions — slowly of course — of mobilising some troops. He sent for his army chief-of-staff, General Cheng. The Japanese ambassador was accordingly informed.
Chiang also dictated a polite note to the Soviet ambassador, suitably expressed in diplomatic doublespeak, so that the Soviets would understand his meaning.
Stalin understood. Basically Chiang Kai-shek was saying that China would be slow to act. The country was very concerned about events in Korea, and in terms of a defence pact with Japan was bound to support them. He avoided the use of the words ‘military support’, and made no mention of speedy action. The Chinese government hoped that the ‘border incident’ would be resolved to everyone’s satisfaction quickly.
Stalin now ordered his army commander-in-chief to teach the Japanese a lesson they would not forget quickly. The stage was set for an enlarged conflict, with the potential for an all-out war between Japan and the Soviet Union, into which China could be dragged .